


Some of Them Want to Abuse You, Some of Them Want to Be Abused

by dicklomatticimmunity



Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Gags, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Sex Toys, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicklomatticimmunity/pseuds/dicklomatticimmunity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://tronkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3162.html?thread=1867866">this prompt</a> at the TRON kinkmeme. <i>Every now and then, Sam and Alan like to act out a little mock rape fantasy. So what happens when magically alive and out of the grid Flynn overhears them?</i></p>
<p>This is the first fill for that prompt, and it is my favorite work, of everything I have written.</p>
<p>Published to LJ on February 27, 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alan closed the front door of his house behind him. He had gotten home late tonight, thanks to a board meeting that had gone an hour longer than it had any right to. Being the chairman had it perks, but these meetings -- which were admittedly better as chairman than they were when he was just a member -- had to change. The first item on the agenda for the next meeting was going to be changing the meeting time, and dammit, he couldn't be the only one there that didn't like getting home half an hour before midnight.

Alan removed his shoes and placed them on the small mat next to the doorway. He then took off his jacket and hung it on the nearby coat rack, falling into his usual routine. He undid the loop of his tie and was about to remove it when the distinct sound of glass crashing against hardwood floors made him stop in his tracks.

_The first signal?_ Alan's heart began to pound as he proceeded cautiously towards the kitchen. Though the hallway he was in was dark, he moved through it without bumping into anything; practice made perfect, and this had been his home for many years. He entered the small kitchen, where the moon shone through a pair of small windows, casting white light over the marble and metal surfaces. He stepped to one side of the island, searching for anything out of place, when he felt something sharp and jagged against the bottom of his foot.

"Ow!" He stepped back and noticed hundreds of shiny shards on the floor. He lifted his foot, and the piece of glass that had tried to puncture him fell, joining the others. He looked up at the island's surface, continuing to examine it, searching for anything out of place.

He found what he was looking for. The keyring with the key to Sam's Ducati lay on the marble countertop, the silver logo gleaming. _The second signal, I hope._

"Who's there?" Alan called out as he walked around the pile of shattered glass -- probably just one of his old tumblers -- and headed through the doorway at the other end of the kitchen, the one that led to the dining room. His heart was racing, though he was still unsure if this really was what he thought -- and hoped -- it was. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he entered the dining area, tension creeping through him, prepared to strike out at anyone who tried to come at him.

Moonlight from the patio doors to his left cast tall shadows against the walls of the square dining room. Alan looked around, but he couldn't see anything out of place here. He walked over to the doors and checked them, but they were locked and the glass was intact. If there was a burglar here, he or she hadn't tried to come through here.

The sound of his office printer starting a print job made Alan turn. _The third signal._ A burglar wouldn't use his printer for any reason, and so he knew now that it was definitely Sam that was here and not an actual thief. Alan relaxed, and yet it was a brief relaxation because he knew for sure what was coming now. The fabric of his boxers tightened as he stilled, waiting for the printer to finish. It did so with a telltale _whiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrr_ , but Alan waited, listening for anything more.

After a few moments of hearing nothing, he continued forward, his heart beating even faster.

"What do you want?" Alan stepped into the living room through a doorway near the end of the dining room table. The room was swallowed in darkness aside from the faint glow of a nightlight near his bedroom doorway. The fear of the unknown had been replaced with excitement and nervous tension at what Sam had planned for him.

He had set up this elaborate string of signals with Sam earlier in their relationship, when Sam had initially confessed that he had this kind of fantasy. Initially, he had been shocked that Sam -- or anyone, for that matter -- would enjoy such a scene, but at the same time, he wanted to please his lover, and so he had agreed. They had set up a series of signals, along with safe words and safe gestures, and agreed on what was to happen that night. When they did the scene, he found that not only did Sam enjoy it, but he had been turned on by it quite a bit himself as well.

Since then, they had only indulged in that type of scene a few times. He had reversed roles once, something that he, much to his own disbelief, had enjoyed. He had never thought that he, Alan Bradley, chairman of Encom's board, would delight in such kink, but he supposed that every executive had their secrets and this was his.

Memories from those scenes rushed through his thoughts as he walked towards the bedroom, taking slow, certain steps. Sam had told him this was where he should go at this point in the scene, and he hadn't questioned his directions at the time and he wouldn't question them now. Part of him knew Sam wasn't actually hiding there, not yet, but he peered into the room anyway, knowing that if there was an actual burglar in his house, he would definitely check here.

It was difficult to see in the bedroom without any light, but Alan knew he would be able to tell if anything was moving. Sensing nothing, he swallowed, his breaths coming harder now, body tense with anticipation.

"Where are you?" Alan shouted into the darkness, as though he might draw Sam out that way. He waited, watching for any movement, but nothing happened. He turned back towards the living room and stood just in front of the doorway, trying to examine the area by the blue glow of the nightlight.

The shadows cast by the nightlight shifted, and Alan felt something brush over his shoulder. _The fourth signal._ He turned sharply to face the bedroom, but if anything had gone by, it wasn't visible now. He stepped into the bedroom again, intensely scrutinizing every shape he could make out. He could see, in dim outline, the few pieces of furniture at this end of the room: to his left was the end of his bed, and to his right was a bookcase lined with programming books and a few classic novels. In particular, he eyed the closet opposite him. Deciding that's where Sam had to be hiding, he began to walk forward, determination in his stride.

Alan stopped when his foot came into contact with something on the floor. Alan looked down, and as his eyes adjusted, he noticed an old leather-bound book, carelessly discarded on the floor for him to pick up.

_The fifth and final signal._ If he picked the book up, it meant the scene was on. If he left the book alone and called an end to this, Sam would accept the termination of the scene, and they would shower and go to bed as they normally did.

If they did that, Alan didn't know how he would deal with his throbbing erection, the one that was threatening to get painful if he didn't remove his belt soon.

With a trembling hand, Alan reached down and picked the book up. As soon as his fingers clasped the spine, he heard the door close behind him. _Scene on._ He rose slowly, pondering his next move.

He waited a beat, two beats, and then turned and hurled the book at the corner, where he thought Sam had been hiding behind the open door.

Something cold and metal closed around his other wrist. Alan caught a glimpse of Sam, but a strong, well-toned arm wrapped tightly around his chest and left arm, forcing him to face away from the younger man. A pair of lips brushed close to his ear as his body collided with Sam's.

"Don't fucking move, Bradley," came Sam's voice, cold and harsh. Alan tried to control a shudder, the sound of that rich baritone magnifying the pleasure that already thrummed through him.

"What do you want?" Alan asked, voice quivering with nervousness. He remained still against Sam, though he tried to tug his right hand free. He could feel Sam tug back, and he knew then that Sam was holding the other cuff.

"I don't want any _thing_ ," Sam said, his voice dangerous, low. "I'm here for _you_ , Bradley, and I'm going to get what I want."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sam, what do you want from -- " Alan began, but the young programmer shoved him forcefully towards the foot of his bed. He tried to get up, but Sam was on top of him in a heartbeat, molding his body over the chairman's.

"You already asked that," Sam whispered waspishly. "Or do I need to repeat myself?"

Alan was momentarily distracted by the realization that Sam was aroused beneath what must have been tight-fitting jeans because he could feel Sam's erection pressing against his clothed behind. He swallowed hard, trying to come up with something, but his mind was a blank and coherent thought was becoming more difficult by the second.

Sam's hand gripped his hair tightly, firm fingers squeezing at his scalp. Alan hissed, pain making his hands scrunch the sheets beneath him. He had waited too long to respond.

"I _said_ ," Sam pressed, his tone impatient. "Do you need me to repeat myself?"

"Get off me," Alan demanded, and he rammed an elbow into Sam's chest. Alan heard Sam grunt above him, but the younger man only relaxed his grip; he didn't let go completely. Alan whirled them sideways so he was on top of Sam, and he mourned the loss of a few of his precious remaining silver hairs as he continued his momentum, freeing himself from Sam as he turned again.

He would have turned fully, but Sam caught him by the left wrist, forcing Alan's momentum to a halt. Alan was spun as Sam's other hand came down on his left shoulder and shoved him against the wall, his back hitting it with a dull _thud_.

"Sam, what the -- " He was cut off by a slap to the face. His glasses went flying -- who knew where they landed -- and then Sam was suddenly _right there_ , wrenching his shirt down by the collar and exposing his left shoulder. Sam bit into the skin there, hard enough to tear, and Alan gasped as pain ripped through him before melting into excited pleasure.

"Sam, stop." Alan tried to sound like the panicked victim he was supposed to be, and though his voice quivered with lust and not fear, the effect was the same. "What do you want from me?"

He realized too late that it was the third time he had asked that question. Alan let out a strangled moan as Sam bit his neck, and he knew Sam was leaving a mark. Alan tried -- though not very hard, admittedly -- to push Sam away as his shirt was torn open, the buttons forcibly separated from their threads, exposing his chest. The tie, which had been mostly undone already, fell to the floor, pooling into a pile of silk at his feet.

"Get in the closet," Sam hissed angrily as he sank his fingers into Alan's left shoulder. Alan cried out, pain stinging his nerves as Sam stepped back, flattened his hand against his shoulder, and shoved. Alan stumbled forward into a sea of business suits and pants, all neatly hung on hangers until he crashed through them, sending some of them to the floor beneath him. As his chest hit the back wall, Sam pressed over him again, closing the space between them.

"You're going to be punished, Bradley," Sam's thick voice poured over him. "I'm going to fuck you because that's what you get, you power-hungry suit."

Alan struggled to breathe steadily, so turned on that speech didn't seem possible anymore. He rallied, willing himself to not turn to a pile of smoldering ash just yet.

"Fuck you," Alan hissed. He cocked his head backwards, headbutting the younger man behind him, followed swiftly by another elbow to the chest. He could feel Sam double up beneath him, and Alan turned to finish with a punch to the shoulder. He connected, sending Sam sprawling against the foot of the bed.

Alan made a dash for his bedroom door, but Sam recovered faster than he expected. _I knew I'd regret -- well, not really -- taking Sam with me to all those martial arts classes._ Before he could pass Sam completely, the younger man seized his right arm and pulled sharply. Alan lost his balance, and he would have fallen but Sam caught the backside of his shoulder and spun him towards the closet again. Alan took down even more suits, along with a few hangers, and Sam was only centimeters away, bearing down on him. He couldn't hold back a cry of mingled pain and bliss when Sam bit into the back of his neck, sinking teeth into his sensitive skin.

Alan tried to push himself off the back of the closet, but Sam's knee pressed against his groin. Alan stilled automatically, the message clear. _Enough fighting. Let's get down to business._ He didn't dare move as Sam took his wrists and forced them behind his back. He felt the second cuff close around his left wrist, binding it to his right. He exhaled with relief when Sam removed the knee from between his legs, only to feel the weight of Sam's warm body flatten him against the wall. Alan shuddered again, panting heavily, his own breaths harsh to his ears in the quiet space of the closet.

"It's not your place to tell me what to do," Sam whispered coldly against his ear. "I'm the one in control here."

"I don't understa -- mrrrrhhh -- " Alan tried to force his mouth closed as a large leather-wrapped O-ring was pushed between his lips. He screamed, twisting his head as Sam attempted to tie the gag at the back of his head.

For his resistance, Sam bit into Alan's right shoulder. Alan let out a muffled cry, fire licking down his nerves, sending sparks straight to his groin.

" _Hold still_ , or I'll skip the lubrication and fuck you dry," Sam threatened as he tugged the straps of the gag tight. Alan let his jaw go slack, allowing the ring to slip between his teeth, succumbing to Sam because he _didn't_ want to be taken completely dry. He could feel Sam cinch the gag tightly against the back of his head, and he noted that Sam had been careful to not pull on any hairs.

Inevitably, he would start to drool uncontrollably. The thought was humiliating, and yet it turned him on even more, made his cheeks redden and radiate warm heat. His groin brushed over the wall, reacquainting him with his throbbing erection, and suddenly his pants were too tight, as though they were actively trying to constrict him.

Sam must have noticed because as soon as the gag was securely in place, Sam's hand was on his groin, palming over the bulge in his pants. Alan let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a cry, voice distorted by the gag. He tried to wrench away from the hand, but Sam had trapped him too well, allowing him little space for movement. He cheeks flushed a brighter red, desperate for release and, as the 'victim,' humiliated that he was so turned on.

"I knew it," Sam whispered as he undid Alan's belt buckle. Alan whimpered at the ease of some of the constriction. "I knew you were just another corporate slut." Sam undid the button and fly before nudging Alan's pants down, along with his boxers, to settle on the slight curve of the chairman's hips.

Alan's eyes widened as he considered what was happening. Sam brushed a fingertip down the length of his cock, and it took all the resistance he had to not thrust into the programmer's hand. A strangled cry escaped his throat and his legs began to shake, the raw lust making him dizzy and lightheaded.

Sam chuckled behind him and continued the torturous touches. He pressed his thumb against the glans as his index finger stroked along the length of Alan's cock. Alan closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists, trying to prevent himself from flying apart right then and there. This was torture, sheer torture, and that jostled his thoughts, as though his brain was trying to point a flashing neon sign at something obvious.

A sinking feeling began to crawl through him. He realized that, for a 'victim,' this was too early an end to be true. The sinking feeling magnified tenfold when Sam's fingertips closed around the base of his erection. He knew what would happen a second before it actually did; he let out a howl of agony as he felt a silicone cock ring brush against the underside of his scrotum. Sam pulled the ends of the cock ring together above Alan's erection, closed them, and let the ring snap into place snugly around the base of his cock.

Sam laughed darkly behind him. "You didn't really think I was going to let you come, did you?" He laughed again as he bit Alan's earlobe. "You're something else, Bradley. You really are a whore for this kind of thing, aren't you?"

Alan nearly collapsed right then and there. He would never admit to anyone, except Sam and himself -- and usually not the latter -- that he really enjoyed dirty talk. While it was intended to be funny in most situations, here it was serious, and that only enhanced the effect it had on him.

Sam clutched his hair in a strong fist and applied pressure to the top of his head. Alan let out a grunt and sank to his knees, chest sliding against a fallen suit jacket as he folded his legs beneath him. He was on his knees soon enough, sitting on what felt like a pair of pants and a couple of blazers.

"Turn around," Sam demanded as he separated himself from the chairman. Alan obeyed, knowing he had no choice. He could hear the sound of a belt being removed, followed by the sound of buttons being undone. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a t-shirt fall to the floor beside Sam's foot.

When Alan finished turning, he was face to face with a kneeling Sam Flynn. Sam reached out and touched his cheeks, and Alan followed Sam's hands with his eyes as soft fingertips brushed over his skin. He felt Sam test the tension of the gag, and he saw Sam smirk when the strap barely moved.

"You're so gorgeous, Bradley," Sam whispered. Alan noticed the predatory glint in Sam's blue eyes and shrank away, but Sam made up for the distance and then some. Sam shifted forward, and Alan couldn't shrink away anymore because his back was against the wall, knees spread in front of him as Sam crawled between them and pressed his lithe body flush against Alan's.

"No wonder everyone at the office wants you," Sam murmured. Alan watched Sam's hands descend down his neck to his chest, where they paused at his nipples. Alan moaned and looked away, closing his eyes as the younger man's index fingertips pressed over his areolae.

"Yes. Just like that, you whore." Sam gazed back at Alan as he pinched each of the sensitive nubs.

Alan moaned loudly, slipping deeper into ecstasy.


	3. Chapter 3

Alan's mouth was drying quickly. He could feel the saliva collecting at the front of his mouth, barely held in by his lip. He knew it would spill over, and the thought of that happening was both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Alan gasped and let out shaky moans as Sam toyed with his nipples, pinching and twisting them gently. Each twist, each touch sent pleasure straight to his groin, where the cock ring reminded him that he was not in control. He was watching now as Sam bit his chest, merged pain and pleasure scorching his body, bruises forming where Sam placed particularly harsh bites. Sam then kissed and sucked at the fresh marks, augmenting the euphoria that was consuming him. He moaned and tilted his head back as far as he could, and Sam seized the chance to place a hard bite near his Adam's apple. He cried out, turning his head to the side as Sam marked the skin there.

Alan could feel his saliva threatening to spill over his lip. Not even Sam's mouth could distract him from this thought as he tried to fight it, tried to swallow the saliva down. It continued to build behind his lip and he knew it was imminent, knew it would happen soon. He tried to swallow again, and that was when it happened.

A cry of shame escaped Alan as he felt his saliva pour over his lip and down his chin. His cheeks flushed a darker red as he shut his eyes, unwilling to look down as the drool trickled down his neck, where he knew Sam would notice it.

Sam felt the liquid drip onto his nose, and he smiled, pleased by the humiliation he knew he was causing. He removed a hand from Alan's chest and wiped the liquid from his skin with a dexterous finger.

The touch made Alan open his eyes and look down. He watched Sam as the younger man lifted his head and met his gaze. Sam's eyes had a devious glint to them, and Alan wanted to turn away, but curiosity kept his eyes fixed on Sam and the saliva-slickened finger that the younger man held up between them.

Sam stuck his tongue out and licked his finger clean, intentionally being obscene to embarrass Alan further. His smile widened as he watched Alan struggle with himself, torn between arousal and mild disgust. His eyes then focused on Alan's chin, following the trail of drool as it went down Alan's neck and continued down the center of the executive's chest.

"What do we have here?" Sam teased. Alan tried to turn his head away, but Sam grabbed his chin and held it firmly. Alan watched as Sam caught the end of the trail with his tongue and began to lick upwards. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath as Sam's tongue licked over his neck.

Alan let out a moan of surprise when Sam's lips pressed against his. His body sank closer to the floor as Sam's tongue thrust into his mouth, tracing the o-ring with his tongue before seeking out Alan's and curling around it. Alan let Sam kiss him, unable to fight the younger man in the position he was in.

Sam bit his lip suddenly, and Alan let out a muffled scream. He tried to pull away, but Sam held his chin in place, forcing his blood to mix with their saliva, adding a sharp tang to its taste. Alan whimpered as Sam's tongue explored his mouth, invading it with the intention of dominating its compromised prey. Alan fought back, tongue trying to push against Sam's, but he was already weak, too aroused to care about the fight so long as Sam took what he wanted.

When Sam pulled away, Alan opened his eyes. He panted heavily as he stared at the younger man, who smirked at him before thrusting a pair of fingers into his mouth.

"Lick," Sam ordered, and Alan obeyed immediately, curling his tongue along each finger, coating it as thickly as he could. He knew why Sam was doing this, knew what Sam was going to do with those fingers. When Sam withdrew them, Alan watched, expecting Sam to reach behind him and start teasing him open.

Instead, Alan watched as Sam's hand wrapped around his own erection and began to stroke. Alan let out a distorted cry and looked at Sam, trying to convey through his own lust-clouded, grey eyes that this show was too much for him to bear.

"Fuck, Bradley," Sam moaned, malevolent eyes staring into Alan's. "Are you always this willing, or is it just me? Are you enjoying being my bitch?" He thrust his fingers into Alan's mouth again. Alan voiced a muffled complaint before sweeping his tongue over them. Another trail of drool was going down his chin, but it didn't matter anymore; he was already broken, boxers soaked with the precome that dripped down the underside of his cock.

Sam withdrew his fingers and stroked himself again, only this time he watched himself, ignoring Alan as he stroked faster. He paused to apply pressure to his glans, eliciting a loud hiss from himself before he jerked his hand up and down with rapid movements. He looked up at Alan and was pleased to see that he had the executive's attention.

"You want to feel me inside you, don't you," Sam whispered, slowing down to see how much he could tease Alan. "How many cocks have you sucked, Bradley? How may cocks have you taken?" He grinned when Alan whimpered and looked away, but deep down beneath the role he was portraying, he knew he was being cruel. He stopped and reached behind Alan's head, undoing the clasp that held the gag in place. It came free and he tossed it behind him, discarding it for the night.

Alan gasped with relief and coughed, a final spurt of drool dribbling down his chin. He wasn't going to dignify those questions with a response. "Sam, please. I -- "

Sam backhanded him. Alan hissed, temporarily stunned, face stinging from the impact of the blow.

"Too embarrassed to admit the numbers?" Sam said, his voice husky, heavy with lust. Alan opened his mouth to tell Sam to go to hell, but Sam chose that moment to kiss him. Alan put up one final fight, trying to seize Sam's lip and bite it, but Sam beat him to it, slicing his unmarred lip open. The taste of blood filled his mouth, fresh iron spilling into it, and he leaned forward off the wall, forcing his head forward to try and bite back, but Sam pulled away. Alan stared at Sam, saw his blood on those red, swollen lips as he panted heavily, chest rising and falling chaotically.

"Please, Sam - " But Sam wasn't listening. Alan grunted as he was shoved face down onto the floor of the carpeted closet. He tried to get up, but he only managed to get as far as his knees before Sam was behind him, rubbing his cock against Alan's ass.

"Be quiet, Bradley," Sam snarled severely. Alan didn't even try to wriggle away as Sam shoved his pants and boxers to his knees. He turned his head to the side and nestled his head against a pile of discarded t-shirts as he heard the rustling of clothing -- Sam's, he figured -- and knew the younger man would be inside him soon.

Alan could feel Sam position his slickened cock against his entrance. He let out a shaky cry, submitting completely as Sam's body molded over his, smothering him with heat. He felt more alive, more euphoric than he had ever felt before as reality began to erode away.

"The only word I want to hear from you is my name," Sam breathed against his ear. He thrust into Alan in one fluid motion, penetrating the man beneath him.

Alan screamed.


	4. Chapter 4

Alan had known it would be painful for Sam to enter him dry like this. He had wanted it that way, and he had gotten exactly what he wanted. He writhed and moaned as Sam moved inside him, unable to hold back as lust clouded his reality.

"You're so fucking tight, Bradley," Sam moaned as he thrust in and out. "And I thought you were the one who did all the submitting. I never thought you'd be the one who did the actual fucking."

"Please, stop," Alan begged, his voice small. "Please, Sam, don't -- "

"Shut the fuck up," Sam whispered harshly, punctuating the word _fuck_ with a deep thrust. Alan moaned loudly, the thrust just enough to nudge his prostate and make stars dance in his vision.

"Please," Alan sobbed, closing his eyes. "Please, Sam. Stop this."

"You know you're just as turned on as I am. Don't deny it," Sam taunted, slipping a hand beneath Alan to grasp the executive's cock. Alan gasped and nearly stopped breathing. He tried to thrust against Sam's hand, but the younger man's other hand held his hip firmly, preventing movement.

"Stop," Alan pled. "Sam, please listen to me." He knew he was belying his own words, but the part of his brain that cared had shut off long ago.

"I'll bet that's not what you said to the ex-chairman of the board last week," Sam sneered. He adjusted his grip, his sweaty palm squeezing Alan's hip tightly, and thrust harder.

Alan's toes curled, knees barely supporting him as arousal shook his body. He could feel Sam reach for the cock ring, and he cried out in anticipation, desperate for it to be removed. Sam began to slow his thrusts, and Alan let out a cry of frustration as he bucked towards the younger man's hips, wanting _more_ , needing Sam to continue and never stop.

Alan screamed, mind fogging with intense bliss when Sam penetrated him deeply, the tip of Sam's cock nudging his prostate. He pushed himself back against Sam's hips as the younger man began a deep, steady rhythm, and Alan couldn't help but clench his muscles around Sam because he needed this, needed this now.

"Fuck," Sam moaned into Alan's ear. "Oh _fuck_ , Bradley. So tight." His fingertips found the cock ring, and he slipped a finger beneath the connected ends. Alan moaned loudly as the cock ring loosened and then fell away, and he knew this was the end, knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Dear god Sam, please." Alan couldn't stop the half-moan half-scream that escaped him as Sam struck his prostate repeatedly. "Sam, please - _Sam_."

"I'm going to come inside you," Sam husked, ignoring Alan's cries. "How does that make you feel, Bradley? Have you ever had to take cum in the ass before?"

Alan let out another moan-scream for a reply because every time he tried to get his mouth to work, his prostate sent mind-numbing pleasure to his brain. He could feel Sam's thrusts become more erratic, could feel the younger man breathe heavily against the back of his neck. Suddenly, Sam's hand was closed tightly around his cock and was jerking him off rapidly.

Alan moaned as his world became a blur, reality and fantasy merging together in one blissful endpoint. He thrust against Sam's hand, hips rocking back and forth against Sam's body.

"Come for me, Bradley. Come for me, you cock-hungry slut," Sam breathed above him. And Alan did, muscles clenching around Sam as he was stroked to completion. He moaned loudly and came, harder than he ever remembered coming before, semen spurting onto the carpet beneath him. Sam came soon after, echoing Alan's moan with his own, spilling his seed into Alan as bliss overtook him. He collapsed on top of his lover soon after, exhausted, and closed his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing and relax.

For several moments, they only breathed, floating in the afterglow of their orgasms. Alan, mind still reeling from the fantasy they had just acted out, tried to remain calm. The scene was over. He was okay. It was just a fantasy. Sam hadn't actually raped him; it had been consensual, something he had told Sam about months ago. Furthermore, they hadn't needed to use the safe words or gestures they had agreed on. Alan relaxed, knowing everything had gone according to their plan.

The sound of a door opening got their attention. Sam opened his eyes and automatically went into defensive mode, yanking a blanket from the corner of the closet and throwing it over Alan. He withdrew himself from his lover and looked over at the doorway to see who was there.

_Oh god. Oh FUCK NO._

Flynn stood there, jaw hanging open, face stricken with sorrow as he stared at his son and his best friend.

"Sam," Flynn croaked, too shocked at the scene before him to say anything else.

Sam stood slowly, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, clothes irrelevant right now. It was taking all of his remaining control to not panic, to not shove his father out of the room and demand he return later.

"This isn't what it looks like," Sam tried to say calmly. "We agreed to this. It was consensual." Sam swallowed hard. Even he wouldn't believe himself, talking as he was -- and naked, no less. "You've got to believe me, Dad."

Flynn still looked confused, and worse, worry had crept into his expression. His brow creased as he looked down at Alan.

"Alan?" Flynn looked down at his best friend.

Alan had opened his eyes, but they were glazed over and looked blank. He was still reeling in afterglow, an afterglow that had ended too abruptly and now left him hanging on the fringes of fantasy and reality. He was struggling to delineate between the two because something in the back of his head told him he had to grasp what was going on before things got really bad.

Flynn frowned deeply when Alan didn't respond to him. Concern for his friend's well-being overrode everything Sam had said, and he stepped forward to go to Alan, to tell Alan that he would talk with Sam, that he would make sure Sam never hurt him again. Sam stepped in front of him, though, blocking his path as his son held a hand out between them.

"Let me take care of Alan," Sam said firmly. "Let me bring him back to reality the way he needs to be, and then we can talk."

"Sam," Flynn said, a hint of anger flickering over his eyes for a brief moment. "What did you do to him? Why?"

"Dad," Sam said sternly, because he did _not_ have the time for this. "I will explain everything soon. For now, I need to take care of Alan."

Flynn shook his head, still not believing. "I -- I know I let you down -- "

"Dad -- "

"And I know you probably have issues because of that -- "

"Dad, please -- "

"But that's no reason to take them out on -- my god, Alan, are you okay?"

"Dad!" Sam shouted. "Please. Let me handle this. Go into the living room and wait for us. We'll discuss this when Alan is ready." Sam pled with his father because he didn't know what he would do if his dad insisted on trying to sort this out himself.

Flynn tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing a few times, but the words never came to him. He shook his head, several realizations hitting him too fast. Alan wouldn't let anyone do this to him unless he wanted it -- or so he hoped -- and he went with that because it was the only thing that made sense.

"Sam." His voice was a choked whisper. "Do you mean -- "

"Yes, we enjoy fantasies that may seem extreme to others," Sam said rapidly, desperate to take care of Alan before his lover reacted badly to his father's presence. "Now please _leave_. Wait in the living room."

Flynn nodded, resigned to accepting what his son had said. He gave Alan a concerned look before he walked slowly from the room and closed the door behind him.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, finally alone with Alan again. He immediately went to his lover, removed the blanket, and began to place gentle kisses on Alan's shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Sam said as he reached for his jeans and stuck his hand down one of the pockets. He removed a key from it and quickly unlocked the metal handcuffs. He pulled them away while simultaneously removing Alan's rumpled shirt, allowing Alan's hands to fall to his sides. Sam continued to kiss along Alan's back as he reached for one of Alan's hands and clasped it tightly in his own.

Alan squeezed Sam's hand. "It's not your fault." His voice was slightly slurred, but the haze he had been in was falling away, replaced with concrete definitions of fantasy and reality. He hadn't wanted to come back, not this soon, but at least Flynn had left him alone with Sam.

Sam pulled away and knelt next to Alan, giving the executive space to move. Alan rolled onto his back, grey eyes meeting his lover's, and he smiled before sitting up and pulling Sam close. He kissed Sam, embracing his lover as he reached for Sam's hand and held it again, squeezing it, sending his message of assurance. _I'm okay. Thank you._

Sam broke the kiss and looked into Alan's eyes.

"I love you, Alan," he whispered. His free hand brushed gently over Alan's cheek, caressing it in a soothing motion.

"I love you too, Sam," Alan replied. He placed a kiss on Sam's forehead and continued to hold him close. Sam responded with a tight embrace and rested his head in the crook of his lover's neck.

Several minutes passed. Sam waited for Alan, savoring the quiet time with his lover, knowing that Alan would let him know when he was ready.

A few moments later, Alan kissed his cheek.

"I should have known your dad would stop by tonight," Alan said quietly. "He wouldn't want to be holed up in the arcade after being in the Grid for so long."

"It's okay," Sam soothed. "I'm just not sure how to tell him. About us." Because in truth, his dad had discovered several things in one instant: one, that he was gay; two, that he and Alan were together; and three, they occasionally indulged themselves in mock rape fantasies.

"I think the best thing to do is to let your dad ask the questions," Alan said. "Though I'm sure it's going to take a while for everything to sink in." He knew it was going to be an uncomfortable discussion, but they couldn't let Flynn come to his own conclusions about his relationship with Sam.

Sam groaned. "As long as he doesn't run away -- "

"Don't think like that," Alan whispered, running a hand through Sam's tousled hair as he placed a kiss on Sam's forehead. "I think he's had enough of the Grid for a while. Let's see if we can go talk to him."

"Alright," Sam said, getting up. He stepped aside and reached for a towel he had placed under the corner of the bed. He cleaned himself up before pulling his boxers on, followed by his pants. Alan got up and did the same, buckling his belt before picking up his now-buttonless shirt and donning it. Sam buckled his own belt, found his discarded t-shirt, and pulled it on hastily. He then tossed the towel to Alan, who used it to clean the drool from his chest and chin before discarding it and closing his shirt as best he could.

Alan surveyed Sam while his lover did the same to him.

"Sorry about the shirt," Sam said, gesturing towards the holes on Alan's shirt where there should have been thread and buttons.

"It's okay," Alan said, grinning. "It was my least favorite one. I'll be glad to be rid of it."

They shared a soft laugh. Alan clapped Sam on the back of a shoulder. "Come on. Your dad is worried about me."

"And probably worried for my sanity," Sam muttered. "Oh, and here -- " Sam spotted Alan's glasses near the foot of the bed and handed them to Alan, who looked through them at a distance before putting them on.

"Thank you." Alan smiled at Sam before reaching a hand out. Sam took Alan's hand and squeezed, returning the smile.

Alan opened the door, and they headed into the living room together.


	5. Chapter 5

Flynn turned his head when he heard the door open. He took a moment to survey his son and his old friend, noting that both of them were completely clothed -- and, apparently, safe. He tried to let this sink in -- _Alan's okay, man_ \-- but instead, he worried even more.

Sam walked over to the sofa across from the chair his dad was in and sat down. Alan joined him, still holding Sam's hand, and looked over at the elder Flynn. He waited for the questions to start.

An awkward silence followed instead. Flynn looked back and forth between Alan and Sam, as though trying to find something to grasp onto. His mind was still too blown to form words, though, and so instead of asking a question:

"I need a beer," Flynn groaned.

"No, you don't," Alan said firmly. "I think you should be sober for this."

Flynn gave him a hard look, one that Alan did not return, choosing instead to keep his gaze steady.

"I know you must have some questions," Alan offered. "I -- " He corrected himself. "We'll try to explain as best we can." He squeezed Sam's hand, and he relaxed when his lover squeezed his hand in return. He normally didn't like speaking for anyone other than himself, but it might be necessary in this case. After all, he had been the one on the floor wanting to be fucked senseless. He felt it necessary to prove to Flynn that, yes, really, he was okay.

Flynn looked at Alan and then at his son. Sam was nervous, but he considered it a good sign that his father was still here and willing to talk. He wanted to be angry with his father, to tell him off for walking in on him and Alan, but he couldn't do that right now, not when his dad didn't understand what had actually happened.

Flynn rested his arms over his thighs, fingertips intertwined, and considered the situation.

"This is very un-Zen," was all Flynn could think of to say. He had too many questions, and he quite honestly wasn't sure which one to ask first. He tried to clear his head, to think of something, _anything_ , to ask. Finally, he decided to start with what he had heard before he opened the door.

"So that -- back there," Flynn said, gesturing towards the room in question. "That was consensual?"

"Yes," both Alan and Sam said at once. Alan continued from there. "It was something we set up this morning. I've..." Alan paused. Sure, in the past, he wouldn't have minded telling Flynn about some of his crazy ideas, but he was in a relationship with Flynn's _son_ , and so he had to tread carefully. "It's something we do once in a great while."

"Alright," Flynn said, taking that in. He would try to accept it later. "But why? Why would you want to do such a thing?"

Alan was baffled, as was Sam. Instead of asking more questions about their relationship, Flynn had chosen to go down the rhetorical route instead. Even if they weren't who they were -- Flynn's best friend and Flynn's son -- explaining that kind of thing was beyond uncomfortable. Alan looked at Sam for help, but his lover stared back with a don't-look-at-me expression on his face.

"Kevin," Alan said, turning back to Flynn. "That's..." He stalled, uncertain if Flynn would react badly to the withholding of information where his son was concerned.

"It's too personal, Dad," Sam finished for his lover. "Come on, man. You probably have your fantasies. Let me have mine. And no," Sam added, "I _do not_ want to hear about yours."

"Why would anyone want that?" Flynn asked nobody in particular. He looked over at his son, who was giving him a confused stare. Flynn decided that he was going to have to get back to this subject later.

"I get that you're gay, Sam, and I'm okay with that." He paused, looked directly at Alan, and then looked back at Sam. "And I'm glad that you found a decent man to be in a relationship with." He looked over at Alan again and noticed his friend's cheeks had started to turn a shade of pink. "But... I just don't get..."

_"Please, stop. Please, Sam, don't -- "_

_"Shut the_ fuck _up."_

Flynn shook the mental image from his head. "Why?"

"It's not something we can really explain, Dad," Sam said. "It just... is." He wasn't going to go in depth any more than that because this was _his father_ , and discussing his sex life with his dad seemed inherently wrong.

Flynn looked down and massaged his forehead with both hands. This was too much. He understood that Sam was gay, and he was fine with that. While he would have preferred that Sam found someone his own age to be with, Alan was a nice guy; he couldn't fault his son for falling in love with such a wonderful person, no matter the age difference. It was the idea of them engaging in sadomasochistic activities that baffled him, because why would two lovers want to hurt one another? Why would any human being want to hurt another?

He knew he was touching on questions far bigger than this room. He looked over at Alan.

"I really think I need that beer, man," Flynn said.

Alan looked over at Sam, who nodded, indicating he wouldn't mind a beer either. Alan got up and headed for the kitchen, leaving the Flynns alone in the living room.

When Alan was gone, Flynn spoke quietly. "I'm not going to fault you for being in a relationship with a guy that's my age, but -- "

"Dad, I would never dream of being with anyone else," Sam said firmly, defensively. It was the truth, a truth he hoped his father would accept.

Flynn nodded. "He's a good man." He smiled, and then he laughed softly to himself. "I never would have thought Alan the type to want _that_ \-- "

"Dad -- "

"I'm sorry," Flynn said, waving a hand. "This is all just... overwhelming." He looked at his son sagely. "But really? You and him enjoy -- "

" _Dad_ ," Sam admonished, becoming increasingly frustrated, but Alan returned with a pair of beers just then and handed one to Flynn. Flynn took it with a nod of thanks and cracked it open.

Alan walked over to Sam and handed him the other beer. Sam took it and opened it, but he didn't drink from it. Instead, he watched his father, who was taking a deep gulp from the aluminum can.

"How long have you been here?" Sam asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. He wouldn't have been okay with his dad walking in on him having sex with Alan on any night, but any of those nights would have been better than _tonight_ , the night Alan had wanted to act out one of his most closely-kept fantasies.

"I heard you guys before I walked in on you," Flynn said. "Of course, I wasn't aware of what was... actually going on." He took another swig of beer. "I'm sorry. I thought one or both of you were seriously hurt."

Alan nodded awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to that statement. Saying they were fine felt redundant. He could thank Flynn for being concerned, but that left him with the fact that Flynn knew. The CEO knew his chairman's kinky secret, and his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as he wondered just how awkward work was going to be tomorrow.

Sam noticed the renewed color in Alan's cheeks and wrapped an arm around Alan's shoulders. He pulled Alan towards him and placed a small, affectionate kiss on his lover's temple. Alan shot him an oh-no-you-didn't look, and he laughed before turning to his father, who looked as though the public display of affection had petrified him instantly.

"Just call before you get here next time, okay?" Sam said, trying to relieve the tension in the room with some humor.

"Why should he? You never answer your phone," Alan commented. It was Sam's turn to glare at Alan, but the older man smiled and biffed Sam's shoulder gently with a fist.

Flynn laughed softly and looked down.

"I still don't understand why -- "

"Dad -- "

"Kevin -- "

"I know," Flynn said. "It just... it..." He stared at the carpet a few moments longer before looking up at the couple in front of him, a playful smile on his face.

"It messes with my Zen thing, man."


End file.
